


Trusted Network

by Subsequent



Series: Auth [2]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Betrayal, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Gen, dvd extra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subsequent/pseuds/Subsequent
Summary: Flynn comes home.
Series: Auth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023135
Comments: 24
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

He had tapped out a text before he left, something frantic to Lora and Roy. _I'm safe. Everyone's safe. Don't ring me, driving, but get to Flynn's house NOW._

_He's home._

He knew he'd still have to call Lora eventually, that she'd still be at least half a day's travel away even if she packed her bags and left immediately, but for now - it would do. 

Flynn had been uncharacteristically subdued as he waited for Alan to secure the arcade - though he had his keys back, all the locks had been changed years before. Quorra, though, had all the energy Flynn _didn’t_ \- she’d peppered him with questions, and Alan caught the tail end of their conversation as he rejoined them by the car. 

"...beyond even what Users know," he was saying, as they both stared up at the sky. 

"It's beautiful," she said, eyes sparkling, and Alan grinned ruefully at her tone. 

"You should visit one of the National Parks if you _really_ want to be amazed," he told her. "The stars go on forever, if you have a clear night. The light pollution down here takes some of the shine off, I’m afraid." 

Quorra dropped her gaze to Alan's with a grin, but Flynn _startled_ at the interruption. He recovered quickly and followed it with his _own_ grin, but it was... off, somehow, a little too stilted. 

Alan gave him a once-over, but he knew enough of Flynn not to comment on the reaction. 

"Alan, right?" said Quorra, cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to Flynn's tells. "We didn't really get introduced back there, so - let's start over. Hi. I'm Quorra." 

She stuck out a hand. Alan shook it, and said, 

"Lovely to properly meet you, Quorra. I'm guessing you had something to do with keeping Flynn safe in there? You have my thanks - it can’t have been easy." 

"Oh, no," said Quorra, her grin fading a little. "Quite the opposite, actually. _He_ kept _me_ safe. It's a - long story." 

"I believe you," said Alan. "But we’ll make time for it, tonight. Come on. We need to get you both home first, before we get into the rest." 

“Are,” said Flynn, and stopped. He hesitated, before he asked again - “Is everyone - I mean, I _hoped_ , and it _had_ only been six years out here, so - is Sam - is -” 

“They’re fine,” said Alan, quietly, reading the silences. “Everyone’s fine. Mac had a bit of a scare with his heart about two years back, but he’s been managing. _Sam’s_ only troubles are that he’s almost a teenager, but he can tell you all about that himself. The _company,_ though - well, I’ll save that for another time, but - it hasn’t been the same without you, Flynn.” 

Flynn let out a gust of air at that, deflating a little, as if a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. 

“Good,” he said. “ _Good._ I - I could never have lived with myself if -” 

“I know,” said Alan, still quiet. “Come on. Your house, reunions, and then some _explanations_ , if you please.” 

“Yeah,” said Flynn. “I - yeah. I owe you all that much, at least.” 

“That much and _more_ , thank you,” said Alan, not without humour, and he unlocked the car. 

He took a moment to just absorb the night air, streetlights quietly gilding the dark, before he swung himself down into the driver's seat - Flynn helping Quorra into the back behind him, before moving to claim shotgun. 

The world looked unchanged. It was a study in contrast as to how he _felt_ , as if the revelations of tonight should be writ large across _everything_ , like the very universe itself should have titled on its axis. 

There was nothing, of course. Life carried on around him, oblivious. 

A thousand stories were playing out tonight. This was just one of many. 

He reached for the aircon once they were all settled, but Flynn's hand covered his before he could turn the dial.

"Let's make the most of the warmth," he said, something still a bit strange about his grin. Alan blinked at him, confused, before Flynn continued with, "It’s a nice night. Let’s enjoy it. Change it up a bit - can’t hurt to live with the heat, can it?"

Alan remained confused for a moment more, before abruptly recalling that he'd barely noticed the temperature of the Grid, that he'd seen no evidence of weather. He hadn't been in there long, true, and it was just a _hunch_ , but - 

"Sure, Flynn," he said, and let his hand drop away from the controls. "We can leave the aircon off, if you want." 

It was a silent journey. Quorra had her face almost half outside the window, delightedly focused on the view, and Alan was too tired to concentrate on anything other than driving. 

Flynn, weirdly, was _also_ quiet, seemingly content to be still. For someone who had previously been in perpetual motion, never slowing, it was odd - but then, it _had_ been a long night, for all of them. Alan shot him the occasional glance, but Flynn hadn’t returned his gaze, instead staring into the middle distance, lost in thought. 

So when his phone suddenly and jauntily _blared_ to life in the console, they _all_ jumped, the car almost swerving in surprise before Alan caught himself, course corrected, held steady. 

"I _told_ them not to call," he cursed, heated, shooting the phone an exasperated glare before refocusing on the tail lights in front of him. "I can't answer that while I'm driving. What were they _expecting_?" 

Flynn shook himself from his stupor and picked it up, turning it over in his hands, examining it. 

"I can answer it," he said plainly, with a questioning look to Alan. "The screen says it's Roy." 

“Of course it is,” muttered Alan. “He probably skim read the message and rang at once. Not that I can blame him, I guess. Alright. Answer away.” 

Flynn flashed a thumbs up to Alan, and brought the phone to his ear. 

The voice that followed was loud enough to fill the car. 

"Alan - thank goodness - what do you _me_ an he's home? Where are you? I'm headed over _right now._ Just give me a moment to put on pants - how formal do I need to be dressed for this - sweatpants should be fine, right? I mean, they’ve been on the floor a bit, but - Alan?" 

Flynn had abruptly turned his head away, but the hand that rose to wipe at his eyes betrayed him.

"Roy," he said, and his voice faltered. "You have no idea how good it is to hear you again, man." 

The line went dead silent, before a half credulous question floated from the receiver. 

"...Flynn? Is that - you? Wait - why are you answering Alan's phone? Are you with him?" 

"The one and only," said Flynn. "And yes. I'm with him. We're - we're on our way home." 

There was more silence.

" _Where have you been???_ "

Flynn chuckled, and he cleared his throat, collecting himself, before saying, 

“That, my friend, is a long story. A _very_ long story. Which I will tell, fully, tonight. I’d give you the Cliff notes but - there really isn’t any way to compress this.” 

Alan jumped in at that, his voice raised. 

"We're driving to Flynn's, now, Roy. You can meet us there in twenty. _With_ pants on, thank you. Doesn’t matter _what_ kind." 

"Done," said Roy, happily. “I’ll be there in a jiffy. And Flynn - I mean - _welcome home, program._ We’ve missed you like - you don’t even know. I look forward to this explanation of yours.”

There was a brief pause, but before Flynn could respond, Roy’s voice returned, seeped in laughter and pitched to carry. 

“And, hey, Alan - guess what!? We were right! FLYNN LIVES!!” 

The triumphant declaration was followed by a mad cackle, and the call cut out.

Flynn slowly lowered the phone from his ear, and in the quiet joy that had settled across his features he finally looked like _himself_ again.

“Program?” asked Quorra from the back, catching their eyes in the rearview mirror. “Flynn? Why did he call you a program? I didn’t think your friends knew about the Grid.”

“No, Q,” said Flynn, easily. “He didn’t mean it like that. It’s just an - in-joke we used to have, that’s all.”

“Some in-joke,” muttered Alan under his breath. “Considering you didn’t let us know what you were working on.”

Flynn winced, but he didn’t react at the jab like he would have in years past. Instead, he seemed to consider it for a moment before he said, wryly,

“Fair. I - made a lot of mistakes, I know. I had a lot of time to think things over in there.” 

Alan cut him a side-glance, before settling for a snort as acknowledgement. He hadn’t been lying about the yelling that he had in store, but… not right now. 

Flynn continued once it was clear that was all Alan had to say, a grin growing slightly as he raised an eyebrow.

“Y’know, I _do_ have to ask, though - what’s this ‘we were right’ business?” 

“Nothing much to tell, honestly,” said Alan, frankly. “Most of the world were convinced you were dead. But - we - we didn’t believe it, none of us did. Not any of us who knew you well. We didn’t know _what_ had happened, but... we always knew you’d come back to us. Someday. Eventually.” 

“...You never gave up on me, huh,” said Flynn, his tone soft.

Alan realised that there was no reason to feel faintly embarrassed at that, but he did anyway. 

“Well, no,” he said. “Why would we have?” 

Alan could feel the edges of Flynn’s gaze on him, but he kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the road ahead. 

“While you have the phone, you should ring Lora,” he said, instead. “She’s still in Washington these days, so she won’t be able to make it tonight. But she deserves to hear that you’re back from _you_ , not one of us.” 

“Sure,” said Flynn, his tone still softly carrying an edge of something that Alan didn’t want to examine too closely. “Consider it done.” 

The house was dark as they pulled up, blinds drawn. Alan turned the car off and cranked his window back up, Quorra copying him a moment later. 

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s work out how to approach this. Maybe I should go wake them first, get everyone together. Or we just go as a group. Up to you. What do you think? Flynn?”

He turned to see -

Flynn, tears silently streaming down his face, clearly trying to pull himself back together. 

“Or we can wait here for a bit,” said Alan quietly. “No rush. Quorra - there’s tissues somewhere in the back there, can you -”

A hand breached the space between them, offering the box. Flynn took a couple, used them. 

“Thanks, Q,” he said, after he’d taken a couple of deep breaths, calmed himself down a little. “This... wasn’t how I wanted to introduce you to the world. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Quorra, equally as quiet. “I know what your family means to you.” 

“Yeah,” said Flynn. “But you’re part of that too, Q, don’t forget.” 

“I won’t,” said Quorra, and smiled. “Let’s go meet them.” 

“Yeah,” said Flynn, scrunching his tissues. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Alan asked, tilting his head to meet Flynn’s eyes. 

“I’m ready,” said Flynn determinedly, and he reached for the latch.

“Oh man, I am _not_ ready,” Flynn muttered under his breath as Alan knocked smartly, three times, and then thrice more when there was no response. 

A light flickered on somewhere in the hallway, a shadowy figure clearly pulling on a dressing gown as they made their way to the entrance.

Alan had pressed his face up to the glass, shading his eyes as he looked in, and he pulled back as the door opened to find - Lynda, one arm holding her robe in place as she squinted out into the night.

“Alan?” she asked. “Is everything oka-”

She fell silent as Flynn stepped sideways, into the beam of the porch light, his hair outlined like a halo. 

“Ma,” he said, the little composure he’d regained in the car already gone. 

Both of Lynda’s hands rose to cover her mouth, gown dropping open, her pyjamas underneath rumpled with sleep. 

“Kevin,” she whispered, before pivoting on her heel to holler into the house - “Mac! _Mac!_ Get out of bed! He’s _here!_ ” 

That done, she spun around and stepped forward, Alan moving back as she started to reach for Flynn, arms wide. 

_Started_ to reach for Flynn. When she caught sight of Quorra she paused, considering, a deep suspicion blooming across her face. 

“God help me, Kevin, if you abandoned us - Sam - to _elope_ with a - a -” 

Flynn closed the gap and scooped her into a hug, burying his head into her shoulder. 

“Ma,” he said, muffled. “I would _never._ ” 

She struggled briefly in his grip, her tirade continuing, before it trailed off to nothing as she seemed to realise he was serious. She tentatively reached up, held him back.

"Then where _were_ you, Kev? Why _now_?" 

"It's a long story," said Flynn, and Alan chimed in with a tired, 

"I can vouch for that, actually.”

"Then you'd best get explaining,” said Mac, one hand holding the doorframe as he looked out at their group, and Flynn released Lynda only to reach for him instead, grin wobbly. 

Until a yawn behind them froze Flynn in his tracks.

“What’s going on?” asked someone, sleepily, and Mac moved aside to show - 

Sam, barefooted and bleary, rubbing at an eye until he focused properly, realised what was happening.

“Sam,” breathed Flynn, and he dropped to his knee, arms open. 

Sam stared at him, still as a statue. 

And then turned tail and fled back to his room, door slamming behind him. 

Flynn’s face fell in pieces, and Alan’s heart broke along with it. 

“It's been rough on him. On all of us,” said Alan quietly. “Go after him.” 

Flynn slowly returned to his feet, and he brushed himself down.

“Guess I can’t blame him,” he said, with forced cheer. “I always _had_ taught him about the importance of stranger danger.” 

Roy arrived shortly after. Flynn was still in Sam’s room, door shut, and Quorra had claimed one of the armchairs, hands neatly pressed between her knees as she watched the chaos unfolding around her. 

Alan had gone to help Lynda in the kitchen as Mac settled himself on one of the couches, Roy joining them both after being distractedly told to _make himself at home_. 

“Hey Mac,” he said, sinking into the other armchair. He _had_ managed to pull on pants, sweats and a graphic shirt, somehow not out of place alongside Mac’s hastily thrown-on outfit and the tee that Quorra had found at the arcade. 

“Hey, Roy,” said Mac, tiredly. “How’ve you been keepin’?”

“Oh, you know,” said Roy. “Doin’ alright. Also - hey,” 

He turned to Quorra, leaned forward to stick a hand out. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced before, have we? I’m Roy. Nice to meetcha. How did _you_ get caught up in this mess?” 

Quorra brightened a little at the interaction, and she leant forward to shake Roy’s hand. 

“I’m Quorra,” she said, “I - was with Flynn, while he was - away. Guess you could say I was a… rescue.” 

“Rescued, huh,” said Roy, settling back into his chair, eyes crinkling into a smile. “Sounds suitably dramatic. Very _Flynn_.” 

“ _Very_ Flynn,” said Alan dryly, walking into the space with a tray. He placed it on the low table and distributed the mugs, before dragging over a few stools from the counter, sitting down on one, his own drink in hand. 

Quorra, meanwhile, had tried the coffee, promptly spitting it back into the cup after the first sip. 

“Not to your taste?” asked Roy sympathetically. “Don’t worry. Alan tends to make _programmer_ coffee - pitch black and as thick as tar, most days. Doesn’t taste great, but it sure does get the job done when you’re trying to meet a deadline.” 

Mac chuckled, taking another swig from his mug. Alan said, still dryly, “Thanks, Roy. Next time _you_ can make the drinks.”

“I never said mine was _better_ ,” said Roy with a grin, and downed half his cup in one go. 

“I’m just going to check on them,” said Lynda, walking past their group, heading to Sam’s room. “They’ve been in there an awful long time.” 

She didn’t make it much further. As if summoned, the door opened, and a red-eyed Flynn and Sam both walked out.

Flynn’s arm was around Sam, who had a tiny figurine clutched in his fist. 

A _familiar_ figurine, even at a distance. Alan pulled his glasses off and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, everything coming crashing back down over him at the reminder. 

“We’re good,” Flynn said to Lynda, gently pushing Sam forward. Sam ran to the couch, jumping next to Mac, settling in at his side. Flynn followed him to sit on the stool next to Alan.

Lynda passed him a mug, and then arranged herself next to Sam and Mac both.

Everyone looked to Flynn.

Who nervously ran a hand through his hair, before leaning forward, pulling his legs up. 

“So,” said Flynn. “Guess I should explain, huh.”

“Yes,” said Lynda, shortly. Sam, in the meantime, was eyeing Quorra curiously. Quorra eyed him right back.

“Right,” said Flynn, followed by a deep breath. “Okay. Picture me, in ‘82 -”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ ♥ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCjithz7LSI)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few scenes from what comes next.

Alan returned to consciousness all at once, as if someone had flicked a switch. _Asleep. Awake._

He wasn’t sure why. He was still tired, limbs weighted with exhaustion, and the clock on the side table read some ungodly hour as its glow suffused the room.

The _unfamiliar_ room. 

Groggy, disorientated, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, reached for his glasses.

His memory came back to him as his sight did. Flynn’s room. He was in Flynn’s room. Lynda had all but ordered him and Roy to stay what little remained of the night, and, after a glance at the time, they’d given in.

Roy had claimed the sofa. Quorra was given the guest room. Flynn had waggled his eyebrows at Alan and then told him he’d have to share, and Alan had shot back some remark about how it wasn’t _him_ who had had a habit of stealing all the blankets.

It had felt normal, for a few seconds. Like nothing had changed.

And If Flynn’s attempt at levity had seemed a little _too_ forced, well… commenting on it would have only soured the moment. 

So. He was in Flynn’s room. 

Flynn’s messy, dusty, _completely devoid of Flynn_ room. 

Brief internal argument later, and Alan quietly eased open the door. The ensuite light hadn’t been on and Sam had worked through the worst of his nightmares _years_ before, so the most _obvious_ answers to where Flynn may have gone were also the most _unlikely_. 

It was fine, he told himself. It was fine. Flynn wouldn’t have come back from the Grid only to vanish again - he wouldn’t do that to _Sam_ , aside from anything else. He was probably just - jetlagged. That had to be it. God knew that Alan had been through his fair share of sleepless nights after _CeBIT_ , and _that_ , at least, was held in a _human_ time zone.

It was fine. 

It had to be fine. 

But, just in case... he figured he’d double check. 

His only company as he searched the house was the occasional passing car, headlights casting strange shadows as they slid along the walls like spotlights. Everything felt muffled, hushed, the odd pre-dawn silence where it seemed like the world itself was holding its breath.

Alan hadn’t noticed he’d been holding his _own_ breath until he finally spotted Flynn at a distance, the wave of relief that followed almost enough to knock him to his knees. It _was_ fine. He could go back to sleep.

He was turning to do exactly that, when he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. 

Flynn was out on the back porch, leaning his arms against the railing as he looked out and up at the night. And he was still. _Actually_ still, not tapping a foot or a finger or humming along to some song as he had the tendency to do - 

_Used_ to have the tendency to do. These days he… didn’t know.

From what Flynn had said, he’d been trapped in the Grid for hundreds of years. Literal lifetimes. 

He hadn’t quite absorbed what that had _meant,_ until now. 

What it _would_ mean.

Alan turned back around.

He didn’t say anything. He just quietly eased next to him, settled shoulder to shoulder, hands loosely clasped as he rested his own forearms against the railing, looking out. 

Flynn glanced at him briefly, something undefinable in his expression, before his gaze returned to the horizon. 

They were both silent for a while.

The wind roused, lifting the leaves of the trees - briefly dancing them before laying them down, their edges slowly defining as Alan’s eyes adjusted to the dark.

A dog barked, somewhere, setting off two more before they stopped as abruptly as they’d started. The crickets chirped. The occasional hum of traffic rose and fell like a distant tide.

“Do you _still_ use that cologne?” asked Flynn from nowhere, breaking the peace. “I have to say, Bradley, I’m disappointed. I thought we had _discussed_ this, before I left. You’re killing me. I can smell it from here.” 

Alan snorted, shaking his head, the moment gone. He stood up fully, resting his hands on the railing instead, Flynn looking up and across at him with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“ _You_ discussed it, certainly,” he said, blandly, matching Flynn’s low volume. “What _I_ said was that I'm not changing _my_ cologne just because _your_ ex happened to have good taste.” 

“It’s dated,” Flynn parried back with a grin, still watching him. “You smell like a Grandpa. Don’t you want to try something different?” 

“It’s a classic,” corrected Alan. “And no.” 

“It reminds me of Trevor, and you know how _that_ ended.” 

“I do,” said Alan. “So it’s _a good thing I’m not him_ , isn’t it?” 

Flynn laughed a little, before he sobered. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. It really is.” 

There was something too raw in that.

“Flynn -”

“God, I missed you,” said Flynn, looking away at the admission. “I missed… everyone. All I could think was all the ways I’d screwed up, and I know, I _know_ \- it was my own damn fault, lectures well and truly absorbed, believe me -”

“That’s not what we meant when we -”

“Isn’t it?” asked Flynn, looking at him fully now, standing up a little himself, something of an edge in his expression. 

Alan... couldn’t answer that. The words caught in his throat, died on his tongue, and the moment stretched on as he struggled to think of how to respond.

“It’s okay. I agree with you,” Flynn replied for him, into the silence. “And I’m sorry. For what it’s worth. I didn’t really say it back there, so - I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I _kept_ fucking up, and it was everyone else who paid the price.” 

Alan sighed, closing his eyes for a second before reopening them.

“Save the apologies for now,” he said, quietly. His anger was still simmering, but it was banked, now, on low heat. “I can’t say I’m _happy_ with what happened, and I still _can’t believe_ -” 

He cut himself off, calmed himself down.

“I won’t repeat myself,” he said instead. “ _If_ it never happens again. For now - let’s just focus on what comes next. I mean - _fixing_ the situation, and your _reputation,_ at that, well - that’ll be a challenge enough on its own. This doesn’t just end with your ‘miraculous’ return.”

“My reputation?” questioned Flynn, a note of puzzlement entering his voice. “I mean, I know that - ha - falling off the grid would have picked up _some_ media attention, but surely that wouldn’t have changed my _reputation_.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” muttered Alan, before he groped behind him, pulled at one of the deck chairs, sinking into it. _God_ , but he was tired.

Flynn turned, leaning his back against the railing, waiting.

“The company -” started Alan, breaking off, and then starting over with, “The board wasn’t happy when you disappeared, Flynn. They threw you under the bus. Accused you of embezzling, all _kinds_ of nonsense. Of course, they still tried to profit off your work, but - it’s changed. The place has changed. I tried to do what I could, but - well, they didn’t like my approach. I was sidelined. _Roy_ was ousted, along with _half_ of the senior staff. They cut the company to the _bone_ , Flynn, we lost _everything_ we were working towards. ENCOM needs you back, now more than ever.” 

Flynn’s mouth had pressed into an unhappy line at that, and he titled his head back, eyes roaming the ceiling. 

“I - I don’t know, man,” he said. “After everything, I - all I could think of in there was just - spending more time with Sam, if I ever got out. Stepping back into a suit on day one wasn’t on the agenda.” 

“I get it,” said Alan. “And that’s not what I’m saying. Just - think about it. At the very least, we’ll need to decide what story we’re telling the press. As ruthless as it seems… if you distract them with your plans for the company, they may be less likely to dig into where you’ve been these past few years. They like a visionary. If you can sell them on the future, they may be less willing to look into the past.” 

“I can’t just waltz right in, Alan,” said Flynn, and his seriousness at that was… new, as was the calmness with which he said it. 

“So don’t,” said Alan. “Let’s take this slow. Put our heads together, work out our plan of attack. But we _will_ have to decide on something before you head back out into public. The last thing we want is someone taking a happy snap and you ending up on the evening news before we’ve discussed what to do.” 

Flynn’s mouth thinned even more, before he sighed, pulled out the other chair, dropping into it. 

“You’ve got a point,” he said. 

“Of course I’ve got a point,” said Alan, though he smiled. “I’ve _always_ got a point.”

“You also,” said Flynn, grinning back, “Haven’t changed a bit. Even down to the damn cologne. Y’know, for all that talking we did back there - well, _you_ were lecturing, but -”

“That wasn’t _just_ me, thank you -”

“- I never really checked in on how _you_ were. Any major announcements I should be across? Mini Bradleys running around? How’s Lora been these days?” 

“Still in Washington,” said Alan, torn between pride and ruefulness. “She’s doing great. Her flight comes in this afternoon, so she’ll be able to tell you in person.”

“T-minus 10 hours until she kills me, you mean,” said Flynn in a tone that suggested he was only _half_ joking. “Was nice knowing ya, Tro-” 

He cut himself off abruptly.

“Mmm,” said Alan, into the sudden silence. “May need to rethink that one.”

He stood, and clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “C’mon. Today’s going to be chaos enough as it is. Let’s try and get at least _some_ shut-eye before we face it.” 

“You hold it like this,” said Sam, demonstrating, as he watched Quorra examine her fork. “It’s called a dinglehopper.” 

Mac sighed and Sam shot him a look of pure mischief, though it was quickly wiped when he turned back to Quorra, nodding when she matched his grip, movement for movement.

“A dinglehopper, huh?” asked Flynn, pausing as he handed out the plates. “What a _change_. Futuristic. Sounds like I _have_ missed out on some major developments after all.” 

“Only Sam growing into the same bad sense of humour as his father,” muttered Alan, raising his voice to say, “It’s called a fork, Quorra. Sam’s referencing a movie, and _not being very nice to our guest._ ” 

Sam’s poorly constructed look of innocence crumpled under Alan’s pointed stare, and he gave up, rolling his eyes and scrunching his nose. _Fine_ , Alan read in the expression. _I'll behave. For now._

“Oh! I know movies,” said Quorra excitedly. “Flynn told me about them. They’re - entertainment? Moving images? I’ve always wanted to see one. We had - video, of a sorts, on the Grid, but no - movies.” 

“Got it in one,” said Roy, grinning. “And don’t worry. We can _definitely_ introduce you to films. Hey, maybe we can take a projector into the Grid - who’s up for a movie night?” 

“Maybe let’s check the system over first, Roy,” said Flynn, his tone growing pensive. “It’s still not fully… safe, yet.” 

“Though it’s not a bad idea,” said Alan contemplative. “I was planning on taking in my _World Book_ set, something like that - can’t hurt to try other media, too.”

“What did you do if you didn’t have movies?” Sam asked Quorra, fascinated. “Was it boring? Did you at least have TV?” 

“We played - games,” said Quorra. “Flynn taught me how to play Chess, and Solitaire. But... _mostly_ what I liked to do was read.” 

“I took some books in,” explained Flynn as an aside, to the rest of the table. “From when we were cleaning out Grandpa’s place - figured waste not, want not.” 

“ _That’s_ where those went,” muttered Lynda into her coffee, but she left it at that.

“You did say you were going to donate them, hon,” reminded Mac, and Flynn added,

“Technically I _did_ donate them. Just - to the Grid, instead.”

Whatever response he might have received was cut off by the exclamation of _“- Jules Verne! Yes!_ ” from Quorra, before her and Sam high-fived, delving straight back into conversation a second later.

“I think they'll be _just_ fine,” said Alan quietly in an undertone, watching Flynn watch them.

“Not them I’m worried about,” said Flynn, deadpan, and his lips quirked. “I think we've just witnessed the birth of a beautiful relationship. I'm worried for _us._ ” 

The car door swung open and Lora dropped in, stashing her bag away before irritatedly blowing hair out of her face and leaning across for a kiss. 

“Long flight?” asked Alan dryly as they pulled back. 

“Sure felt that way,” she said, matching his tone. “I haven’t told work I’ve left, yet, so we’ve got about two days to manufacture an emergency that explains my absence.” 

“I’m sure there’s _some_ imaginary family member we can kill off,” Alan teased, pulling out into traffic.

“Poor Aunt Iris,” sighed Lora, playing along. “We always _told_ her not to get into street racing.” 

“Her cats will miss her,” said Alan gravely.

“Mmm. Depends on their inheritance,” said Lora, and they looked at each other before cracking up. 

“Missed you,” said Lora, when they were done, propping her knees up.

“Always,” said Alan, eyes on the road. “And you’re not alone in wondering how to approach this. We’ve still got to work out what we’re telling the press - let _alone_ the police.”

“Amnesia?” suggested Lora. “Kidnapping attempt went wrong, Flynn was whacked across the head, six years of recuperating in some monastery somewhere?” 

“They’d never buy it,” said Alan. “Flynn would last two days in that kind of environment before he’d be climbing the walls.” 

“From what you told me, he _was_ in that kind of environment, though,” pointed out Lora thoughtfully. “Just him and Quorra, was it? In some safehouse somewhere? Guess you can get used to anything, after a while.” 

Alan went quiet for a moment before sighing. 

“Good point,” he said. “I’m worried about him. He’s not acting like anything’s wrong, but -”

“You don’t make it through that without _some_ issues,” agreed Lora. “Not that it means I’m letting him off the hook. If anything else, then for the way he treated my laser. If I’d _known_ what he was up to -”

“Oh, he’s already had a taste tester from me in regards to _that_ argument,” said Alan. “After the work that you and Gibbs put in -”

“Not to _mention_ the possible side effects. And don’t think that _you’re_ escaping that conversation either, mister I’ll-go-in-without-waiting-for-a-response. This could have turned out _so_ much worse than it did.” 

Alan had the good grace to look sheepish, though he gently needled back with, “Since when are _you_ the one telling _me_ to be cautious?” 

“Since you digitized yourself using _my_ laser, and don’t get smart with me, thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” said Alan, and signalled to merge. “I know who has the brains in this relationship.” 

Lynda had taken Quorra supply shopping and Mac had taken Sam to his dentist appointment, leaving Flynn, Roy, Lora and Alan to reconvene at the arcade later that afternoon. 

Flynn had hid behind sunglasses and a too-large jacket, which he discarded as soon as they were all inside and the door safely closed behind them. The moment they were off Lora rushed to hug him - which she did, before stepping back and punching his shoulder. 

“ _Ow_ ,” protested Flynn lightly, as Lora said,

“You _bastard_! I’m so glad you’re okay. What did you do to my laser???”

“Missed you too, Lora,” said Flynn, but his grin was genuine for all that his tone was flippant. 

“You had _better_ ,” she said, before she hugged him again, longer this time. 

They stepped back after a second, and Lora turned to hug Roy, too. “Hey, Roy.”

“If you’re gonna kill him, try not to do it in here,” said Roy, also grinning, as they split apart. “Gonna be hard to clean the mess off the cabinets.” 

“He’s lucky _it_ didn’t kill him,” said Lora with a side-glare to Flynn, before her face lightened into pure mischief. “And nah. I’m not gonna kill him. I need him around to hire me.” 

“Wait, hang on -” said Alan, as Flynn asked, confused, “Washington not working out?” 

“This has nothing to do with Washington,” said Lora, pointedly. “And everything to do with you not telling me that _human digitization_ was _possible_. Let _alone_ the Grid.” 

“I’m not following,” said Flynn, matching Alan’s bewildered expression.

“I’m coming back,” said Lora, firmly. “To keep working on the laser. Which you _will_ fund appropriately. Researchers, too. A whole team of ‘em. This is _huge._ ” 

“I’m not even back at ENCOM, yet, Lora,” said Flynn in half protest, though he looked thoughtful. “I’m not in the position to do much of _anything_ yet.” 

“Then _get_ in position,” said Lora simply. “And hire me.” 

“ _You_ haven’t changed a bit, either,” said Flynn under his breath, as Alan asked, hopefully, disbelieving - 

“What about your current team?” 

“They’ll live,” said Lora dismissively. “I’m sure we’ll keep in touch, and I can always collaborate with them long distance.” 

“Not that I’m _not_ excited about you coming home to us,” said Roy, cheerfully, interrupting. “But - I believe I was promised a grand tour, guys, and my feet are gettin’ itchy.” 

“What do you say?” asked Flynn, to Lora. “We can pick this conversation up later.” 

“Holding you to it,” she said, smiling, and slipped her arm around Alan’s waist, leaning into him. 

“You sure it’s safe?” she asked as Flynn pushed aside the cabinet, showing the door.

“Tron’s said the city’s secured, at least,” said Alan, following as Roy led the way. “He also said something about some holdouts left on the edges, but - we might be able to help with that.” 

“Dream team’s back together!” called out Roy, his voice muffled as he made his way down the stairs. “Just hand me a blaster and I can _definitely_ help. I _knew_ all those high scores would be good for something.” 

“ _No_ killing,” said Alan firmly, and the cabinet swung shut behind them. “I can’t _believe_ I have to say that.” 

“Didn’t say I’d be aiming at _people_ , did I,” said Roy, shooting back easily. “Maybe I’ll go for the scenery instead, cause a landslide. Sweep ‘em off their feet.” 

“You watch too many cartoons, Roy,” sighed Alan, and Lora laughed, before she spotted the laser and made a beeline towards it, everything else disregarded at once.

Flynn, meanwhile, had stayed oddly silent, and Alan turned his head to catch him lagging behind, just - watching, nothing more.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, and Flynn shook himself back into motion.

“Yeah,” he said, something weird, but happy, in his expression. “Yeah. I’m good. Everything’s just... _perfect_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant to have a part two. Whoops.


End file.
